


I'll Eat You Up, I Love You So

by blue_fjords



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Community: mating_games, Future Fic, M/M, Past Underage, Warning: Kate Argent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 16:46:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_fjords/pseuds/blue_fjords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek isn't very good at reading how Stiles feels about him, or understanding how he feels about Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Eat You Up, I Love You So

**Author's Note:**

> Expanded version of my entry for Week Six of the Mating Games Challenge. The prompts were for wolfiness and based on a werewolf or monster type of quote. Mine was from "Where the Wild Things Are." I added back my original intros for the longer version of this. Warning for reference made to Kate Argent.

Laura always played Max. In her white footie pajamas, running through the house, brandishing her little claws. The adults howled back – Mama and Daddy, Uncle Peter and Aunt Lee, Uncle Joe and Aunt Margo – lifting her up on their shoulders, playing along. "I'll eat you up; I love you so," Mama told her. Derek watched from knee-high, and didn't understand.

***

Kate tasted like blood and fried ozone, bitter chocolate and the chemical aftertaste of diet soda. To Derek, it was the finest wine and he grew drunk on it. “This is love,” he thought. “This is what it means.”

It turned to ash in his mouth.

***

They meet every Tuesday night for sex, Derek driving two hours down the coast to Stiles' dorm room, climbing through his window and sexiling his roommate for the night. It's rough, and they always come quickly, but then they usually go for three or four rounds before Derek leaves in the morning and Stiles collapses into bed, finally sleeping.

It starts about a week before Stiles graduated from high school, and Derek has no idea what triggers it. One minute they're bickering about what makes the best meal for a stakeout, and the next Stiles is in Derek's lap, shoving his tongue down Derek's throat. Things escalate quickly from there.

It's comfortable, it's normal, it's just like what he used to do in New York, only Stiles isn't a stranger and therefore smells… better. Tastes better, too; nothing Derek can put his finger on exactly. Just "better."

He starts to bring Stiles little things – takeout one night, a couple books he'd forgotten at home another, a very battered pin of Bart Simpson yelling "Eat My Shorts!" that he finds at a gas station between here and there. Stiles snorts with laughter, and a few more knick-knacks, past their prime and faded at the edges, make their way from dusty bins in discount gas stations to Stiles' shelf.

Derek doesn't let himself think about why until the night he brings Stiles coffee. Stiles is ensconced in an armchair of his building's common room, surrounded by laptops and the chattering of his Mythology and Folklore project partners. He takes the cup and says, "Ah, Derek, I'll eat you up, I love you so."

All with a casual smile, like it means nothing. And why should it? Derek has given him junk, never saying it came with his heart. His answering smile is brittle. He leaves quickly, though he just drove two hours.

He doesn't go back the next Tuesday.

***

Stiles is in the loft on Wednesday night. Derek sees the Jeep parked on the street and almost turns around, but he just bought milk and it needs refrigeration. No one likes spoiled milk.

Stiles looks up from the couch when he walks in. Derek ignores him.

"This is when you're supposed to talk to me," Stiles says. "See, I'm playing you, driving here. And you're playing me, telling me what's on your mind. Every thought."

Derek grunts.

"With words."

"Let's just fuck."

"Really, Derek?"

And Derek is on him, then, arms to either side, caging him in with his body. Stiles swallows, and Derek lets himself wolf out a bit, exposing a bit of fang. Red leaks into his eyes and he closes his mouth gently on the spot where Stiles' neck joins his shoulder.

"Really," he rasps out, and bites. Stiles moans, long and low, and then things happen like they always happen – clothes coming off, bodies stretching and accommodating one another, sweat and pre-come slicking their skin as they move together – and Derek thinks he can survive this, if he's careful.

Then Stiles leans up, sinking his teeth into Derek's earlobe. "You taste so good; I could eat you up."

Derek pulls out, falling into a corner of the couch. Stiles looks bewildered, his cock hard and leaking, his face flushed.

"What – why?"

"Stop saying that to me," Derek says harshly.

Stiles turns redder. "What's your problem?"

"Nothing! I just – you don't..."

Stiles stares at him. "I'm not actually going to eat you."

Derek rolls his eyes. "Not that part," he mutters.

Stiles crawls across the cushions to him. "The part where I say I love you so?"

"You _don't_." Derek looks away, but Stiles catches his chin.

"But I do." He presses a kiss to Derek's forehead. "You bring me junk you think I'll like." Another kiss. "And junk I need." Another. "And you stay." Another. "And you fuck me, too, even though you knew what I was like in high school. That part's a bonus."

Stiles pushes against him, lowers himself into Derek's lap like he did the first time they kissed. He presses his human teeth to the thin skin on Derek's neck and breathes in.

_I'll eat you up, I love you so,_ Derek thinks to himself.

Stiles smiles against his neck, like he can hear, and Derek fucks up into him. His heart is in his throat when he comes, and Stiles kisses him through it, like he can see it there, on the tip of Derek's tongue, an offering.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr is a thing which I do poorly! But here's where I am there: [tumbling and rumbling along, whoo](http://bluefjords.tumblr.com/). Stop on by!


End file.
